A Few Days in April
by sarapals with past50
Summary: A new story in our "A Few Days" series, all fluff. Sara and Gil Grissom and their young family welcome a person from the past into their home. Romance shows up, of course! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: We thought we had finished this series- but not yet. Here's one more for those who have asked for and enjoyed the previous stories of Sara and Gil Grissom and a little team of their own! All are back in this story along with a person from the beginning of this series. _

_Of course, we don't own CSI or Sara or Gil (or things would be very different on CSI!)_

_Enjoy!_

**A Few Days in April**

**Chapter 1**

The mornings of April are sometimes warm, often damp with dew or wet with night time rain that always provided a sense of freshness. In a time when peaceful seclusion was almost impossible to find, spring came quietly with the smells of the earth—plowed fields, greening of grass, the first swell of new buds on trees.

Sara opened her eyes, took a deep breath to rediscover the intimate fragrances of her life, and listened for familiar sounds within the walls of her home. What she heard was a succession of tranquil sounds. The first, and nearest, was the regular breathing of her husband, a sound that had comforted her for years as each of his breaths seemed perfectly timed, like a soft metronome, marking a rhythm for her life as well as his. The second sound was the rain—much needed at this time of year—as it gently tapped the roof and rinsed the house, and would brighten and bloom every blade of grass, every plant and flower around their home.

As she processed sounds, she realized there was another person breathing in her bed—small child sized puffs—on the other side of her husband; smiling, she knew it was their youngest child, Will, who as a toddler had recently gone from crib to bed and often found his way to sleep with his parents. She was thankful there was only one child in the bed.

Beyond the sounds of breathing and rain, she heard the quiet rustle and swish of movements outside of the bedroom; when her first child had been an infant, Sara had made the decision to sleep with the bedroom door open and she knew the sounds were made by her oldest daughter, Bizzy.

Knowing her daughter would be dressing and content to have her own quiet time, Sara decided to stay in bed for a few more minutes. She worried about all of her children, not constantly, and usually only in quiet times, but hearing Bizzy stir earlier than anyone else, caused her concern to rise.

Her first daughter, whose birth had been the beginning of a new chapter—no, a new book—Sara thought, was intuitive beyond her age, had intelligence that boarded on prodigy, and a gift to disguise her brilliance. Often, the child knew what her mother was thinking before Sara voiced her thoughts.

Carefully, she extradited herself out of bed, glancing at the two sleeping forms, both seemed to sense her movement and stretched, moving from a tight nested cuddle to spread arms and legs across the bed. Softly, she laughed as her husband shifted and spread his arms; her youngest child did the same. The spread-eagle Vitruvius man and son, she thought, as she wrapped a lightweight robe around her body, went to the bathroom and then slipped quietly from the bedroom.

Her daughter had heard her or was already headed to the kitchen when Sara entered the hallway and the two smiled the same smile as they hugged and kept arms around each other as they headed to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sweetheart," Sara whispered as her lips touched the dark-curled hair of her daughter. "You're up early." She felt a book that was tucked under Bizzy's arm.

A lift of narrow shoulders, followed by a soft giggle, "I wanted to read—I love this one."

Sara hugged her daughter tightly. From the moment she had known she was pregnant, she had vowed her child would have a different childhood than the one she had lived. Her husband had surprised her with this house near her mother, and, more importantly, the group of nuns who had taken Sara and her mother into their community.

Surrounded by supportive neighbors, Sara and Grissom found a quiet and organized life. Shortly after Bizzy was born, Sara knew she wanted another child—and got twins, Ava and Annie. The day Sara learned she would have twins, Grissom brought Eli Brown, the son of Warrick, from Las Vegas to live with them. And now there were five of them. At times Sara found her life, the simple joy of it, the beauty of her children, the devotion of her husband, almost unbelievable.

"I'll start breakfast and you can read," Sara said.

Bizzy pulled a chair away from the table. "I can fix your tea, Mom! You know the others won't wake up for a while." She opened her book. "You can read to me?" The lilt in the girl's voice reflected a younger tone of Sara's voice.

Sara smiled, "Okay," and began to read a story familiar to young girls for decades. A few minutes later, Bizzy placed a steaming mug in front of her. Sara patted her thigh and her daughter hopped onto her lap. As the tea steeped, Sara continued to read as her daughter nestled against her chest.

When she paused at the end of the chapter, Bizzy said, "I like this."

"I do too." Sara kissed her daughter's temple. "We don't have much quiet time in this house, do we?"

Bizzy giggled. "No, but I love all of us—even when Annie and Ava are jumping around thinking they are ballerinas!" She giggled again, adding, "I think we have more kids than anyone at school."

Sara knew that was true and murmured agreement.

The slim girl wiggled, turning to face her mother. Sapphire blue eyes the color of her father's blinked at Sara. "Can we go to chapel today? Even in the rain? The music is always pretty on Sunday."

"Sure," Sara said. She had little belief in organized religions, but their religious neighbors had created a sanctuary—a retreat for adults seeking quiet answers—and were part of their extended family. The women loved Sara's children and were loved in return. And Sunday service, a simple ceremony with music, a choir, and prayers, was one way Sara showed her love and respect for the women who had known her longer than anyone else.

"Can we have waffles for breakfast? I'll help."

Softly, Sara laughed. "Waffles on a rainy Sunday morning sound perfect."

Bizzy smiled. "I love to read. This is probably my favorite book."

Sara knew the favorite book changed weekly. "You read the next chapter." She enclosed her daughter in her arms and used her fingers to hold the book open. She could feel her daughter smile as the child began to read about a red-headed orphan named Anne Shirley.

_A/N: This one is all fluff-with a bit of panty driven smut coming soon! _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Another chapter! Enjoy!_

**A Few Days in April**

**Chapter 2**

Four brightly colored umbrellas bounced in front of Gil Grissom—two identical purple ones with a crown attached to the top, a green frog, and a red lady bug. He smiled as he watched eight equally colorful boots follow a wobbly path with two pairs of feet avoiding pools of water and two pairs with pink butterflies, marching through every puddle of rainwater capable of producing a splash.

He pulled his arm tightly around his wife who was holding a giant umbrella over herself, him, and Will, who he carried between them.

Making a slight snorting sound which caused Sara to laugh, he said, "Never thought I'd see this." When her eyebrows lifted, he continued, "I would never have guessed—speculated—never dreamed—that you and I would be doing this!" His head nodded toward the four umbrellas.

Sara giggled, sounding much like a teenager as she said, "The five kids or the going to church part."

Softly, Grissom chuckled. "Both—either one! I know what you think about religion," he whispered. "However, I always knew you'd be a great mom."

Sara knew his comments were made as an on-going joke. She said, "It's important for the kids—I think! And a way to repay kindness."

He tightened his hold around her shoulders. "You are something special, you know." He leaned around his son and kissed Sara's cheek.

Will wiggled and did the same, giggling as he left a wet kiss and patted his mother's cheek with a chubby hand. Sara reached over and ran her fingers through golden curls. The baby boy responded with a smile that showed a row of white teeth and deepened the dimple in his chin.

In that moment, the sun broke through the clouds; rains drops fell in a sudden last burst before trickling to a stop, and just as quickly it was a sunny day. Sunlight sparkled rain droplets creating a sea of watery diamonds. The four children squealed as the one holding the green frog umbrella folded his umbrella and shook it at his sisters. The girls jumped in a dodging dance knowing it was impossible to avoid the glittering shower.

Laughter and shrieks diminished as Eli helped his sisters fold their umbrellas. The path ended at a paved road; the children waited for their parents to catch up, and they crossed together.

The narrow driveway they followed quickly opened to a familiar scene—a small farm spread before them. The children knew the barns, pastures, gardens, and house almost as well as they knew their own. The place had not changed much since Sara had visited years before, reluctant to believe her mother's luck and life might be transformed by a group of nuns. Yet over time, so much had changed.

The farm had been donated to the small order by a Catholic family who had simply died away. Surprising everyone within fifty miles, a small group of women set to work and had established a sustainable farm by the time Laura Sidle was admitted into their community as a lay associate. Sara thought the arrangement was odd at best—after all her mother had killed her father—but it was an answer to her mother's prayers.

Years later, when Sara had been the one who sought a safe haven from an internal storm, the same women had opened their home and their hearts to her. When she and Grissom returned from Costa Rica, the women had welcomed them as family, had been with them as their family grew to include five children; four of them splashing through puddles on their way to a simple religious service.

The chapel was a recent addition; a simple wooden structure with a small belfry on its roof. Inside, it was a church in miniature with one central aisle, a choir stall consisting of one bench along the front wall, and six rows of short wooden pews, divided by the aisle. Six multi-colored windows provided light. The fifteen women who lived on the farm plus the Grissom family and several other couples who lived nearby made up the 'congregation'.

Sara always thought of Murphy's Oil Soap when she entered the chapel. The scent, faint as it was, emanated from every wooden surface—the floors, the walls, the pews—as if the product had been used to scrub away newness and create an atmosphere of holiness from wood. She always thought it would be better—more 'one with God'—to have the windows open and the scent of the earth filling the chapel than a cleanser. But she kept her thoughts to herself.

Every Sunday, the priest, a man on the brink of retirement, arrived for mass—simple and quick—and usually stayed for lunch and a nap. From first prayer to last, the service rarely lasted longer than thirty minutes, and this included several songs. Sara had expressed her concern that the presence of her children hurried the service, but Sister Deborah had assured her it was not the children, but the noon-time meal that shortened the priest's words.

Today, they were greeted with hugs and help in removing raincoats and wet boots, replaced by dry shoes, and quiet admiration of new dresses the twins were wearing. Will was passed between several older women, Bizzy was in quiet conversation with one of the nuns, Eli had already taken a position near the belfry rope, and Grissom was talking to one of their neighbors as Sara hung coats along pegs on the back wall.

With a signal from the priest, the bell rope was pulled ten times and everyone turned from talking and took places in the pews.

As usual, Sara's family took two pews; Grissom with Bizzy and Eli in front of Sara, Ava, Annie and Will. With the exception of the baby, the children knew the religious routine of the service and participated in signing the cross, in prayers, and in sitting quietly during readings. It was so routine, so ordinarily typical, that when Bizzy dropped her prayer book and Will dropped a stuffed toy, Sara's attention turned to them for a few seconds.

Later, she would realize she had been thinking of other things, but at the moment Sara bent to retrieve the toy, Ava slipped from the pew as quietly as a leaf falling from a tree. In seconds, she was walking toward the priest.

Grissom's head had turned toward Bizzy and the sound of a fallen book. As he turned back to the priest, he heard a collective intake of breaths; the priest raised his eyes from his reading. The eyes of five or six women in the choir were suddenly on one spot. Grissom turned his head.

It took Sara a few more seconds to realize how quiet the chapel had become—just as those in front of her turned toward the aisle, she realized Ava had left her seat and was walking toward the priest. She started to stand—to stretch a long arm toward the escaped child—but her bag fell from her lap and hit the floor. Toys, a diaper, wet-wipes, lose change scattered around her feet.

Ava kept walking.

"Ava!" Her dad loudly whispered, "Stop!"

The little girl turned and waved.

Sara would never be sure who made the first quiet laugh but it was quickly joined by two, then three, as amusement spread to everyone in the chapel. Afterwards, Sister Deborah said the priest was the first one to laugh.

It wasn't the walk, because Ava and Annie would frequently change pews, but what Ava had done with her dress that caused the disruption—she had flipped the back of her skirt up over her head. And in her typical little girl manner, she was slowly walking, holding her skirt under her chin. From the backside, her pink Hello Kitty panties were visible, but the bottom of the little girl was not what caused the laughter.

None of the nuns wore traditional habits, but most wore head coverings, usually a short veil, and Ava's imitation was obvious.

By the time Grissom rose from his seat and stepped into the aisle, everyone in the chapel was laughing. Which only fueled Ava's antics; she beamed as she turned, seeing her father striding toward her. She gave a laughing squeal and pitched forward into a run just as Grissom's fingertips touched her shoulder. She escaped and made it to the simple alter where the laughing priest stood.

Sara had clamped a hand on Annie's shoulder to keep her in her seat.

When Ava's hands caught the skirt of the black-robed priest, he managed to hold up a hand to stop Grissom's progress and placed one on the child's head. His upraised hand covered his mouth for a few seconds.

"I believe it is time for our benediction," the priest said, softly, amusement edged his voice. He managed to hand over the wayward child as he smoothed her dress in place.

Before the prayer, Grissom retrieved his daughter and carried her to the last pew, shaking his head as he walked. As he passed his older daughter, he saw her head bowed, hands covering her face. Embarrassment caused by a sibling was tough to handle, he thought. And he knew this would not be the last time.

_A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing! We have been somewhat surprised by the reception of this new story...thanks so much. More fun and fluff to come!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks so much for reading!_

**A Few Days in April **

**Chapter 3 **

A dozen baby chickens worked wonders to overcome embarrassment of one child and soften the scolding of another.

Sara and Grissom had reached a comfortable resolution in dealing with their children's inappropriate behavior and setting boundaries for conduct—Bizzy and Eli had rarely required a word of caution—so unlike Ava and Annie. Sara watched as her angelic twins, almost identical little cherubs, held fluffy baby chicks in their hands, cooing and babbling at each other, quick smiles or giggles as they responded to one of the adults.

Eli and the old priest had wandered to the back yard and appeared to be in deep conversation. The girls were absorbed in playing with the baby chickens and Will was happy to be toddling from one adult to another. Talking to one of the neighbor's, Grissom was using one of the children's umbrellas to draw in the gravel.

"Can you believe how beautiful the day is?"

Sara jerked out of daydreaming and turned to Sister Marie. "Yes, it is. I think spring is around us."

The woman laughed; she had been at the farm for years, had known Sara's mother, and had cared for Sara and her children. "Stay for lunch. We have roast beef and potatoes—plenty of it—peas, green beans, mac and cheese, and a canned fruit salad and a fresh green salad. And homemade rolls."

Sara had to laugh. Sunday lunch with the nuns was a long-standing tradition; Sara was always invited by Sister Marie or another one of the nuns who would then announce to the children they would be eating lunch with them. It always created excitement.

"Let me help," Sara said, knowing the most she would be allowed to do was put Will in a highchair.

"Oh, no, dear! We have everything ready!" Sister Marie smiled, turning to the three little girls. "Your mother says you can eat lunch with us! Is everyone hungry?"

This was her family, Sara thought, not just the children, but these women who believed in goodness and kindness and benevolence, who loved with no reservations.

By the time everyone gathered around two long tables, nearly thirty people stood quietly for a blessing of the food. The aroma of yeast rolls filled noses as the priest recited a short prayer and very quickly, platters and bowls were passed from person to person with much talking as plates were filled and food tasted.

While Sara did not eat meat or serve it at her home, she was a liberal vegetarian; her children ate what they wanted with the girls usually eating what she did and Eli ate what his dad ate. Sara knew Grissom loved to eat with the nuns because they always served meat—and the smell of chicken frying could reach their house on the wind which gave him a reason to visit.

Sunday lunch was one time during the week when Sara and Grissom relaxed, enjoyed a meal prepared by others, and knew their children were under watchful and caring eyes. After plates were emptied, desserts were passed—pound cake, berry cobbler, and lemon pie—and disappeared as compliments were given to the cooks.

No one hurried to leave; Sara and several of the women cleaned the tables while others dispersed to the porch, the gardens, or moved to comfortable chairs. Sara's children were looked after; from the kitchen window she saw the priest with Eli and Bizzy and the brief thought crossed her mind as to what they were doing but for months the three had been 'best friends' on Sundays.

She watched for several minutes as the old priest pointed to something and Eli took a posture with one arm stretched in front of his face. Sara moved to get a better look and realized her son had an old fashioned sling-shot in his hands. A shiny can sat on a fence post several yards in front of the trio.

At that moment, she heard an unhappy cry and knew Will was ready for a nap. It took several minutes to fill his cup with milk, another few minutes for him to decide he wanted to stay in the lap of the older woman who held him, and two or three minutes to find Ava and Annie on the porch with their dad. Grissom gave a two-fingered "all is well" sign.

Returning to the kitchen, Sara found Bizzy with Sister Deborah and two others setting up an old domino set. The scoring game played by the nuns had been the first recognition of Bizzy's mathematical abilities when they realized the small child was adding up pips as the tiles were played. They had proceeded to add difficulty to the game with addition, subtraction, and multiplication, before Bizzy had reached school age.

It had taken less than fifteen minutes for her to return to the window—the priest was sitting in the swing, alone, and Eli was not in sight.

She turned to Bizzy, asking, "Do you know where Eli is?"

"He's with Father Joseph—did you see his slingshot? Father Joseph made it! Eli was trying to hit a can with a rock."

Puzzled more than worried, Sara returned to the porch—no Eli. Not wanting to raise an alarm, she returned to the kitchen and picked up the trash bags.

"I'll help," Sister Marie said as she extended her hand.

Sara tied one of the trash bags closed; Sister Marie must be eighty, she thought. The small, delicate size of the nun masked a strong and tough individual with a face that creased from hairline to chin when she smiled. Sara handed her one of the bags.

"I'm looking for Eli—he disappeared a few minutes ago."

"Wasn't he with Father Joseph?" Sister Marie's voice dropped to a whisper as she said, "The old guy needs someone to look after him—and he drives out here every Sunday!"

The two walked to the trash cans and saw no sign of Eli. As Sara turned a slow circle, Sister Marie said, "Let's try the barn—he's probably with the baby chickens."

They had not taken but a few steps when Eli came into view; the two women stopped. Before she could fully process what she was seeing, Sara heard the nun's laughter beginning as a soft chuckle and, seconds later, becoming a full blown snort as she clapped her hands together.

By the time Eli stopped in front of them, Sister Marie was doubled over in laughter; a seldom heard magnificent laugh resounded around the yard and echoed against the barn. The old nun reached for Sara's arm as she straightened up.

In a voice filled with glee, she said, "Oh, dear, oh, dear—Eli!" Her chortles filled the air around them.

Sara was speechless. She could not believe her eyes.

In one hand, his arm outstretched, a smiling Eli held a dead rooster. "I shot him dead with my slingshot!" He proudly announced. "We can have fried chicken tonight!"

Sister Marie's obvious enjoyment of the situation finally revived Sara's ability to speak.

"Eli! What have you done?"

The nun's hand closed on Sara's arm. In a whisper, she said "I've hated that rooster for years!"

"Eli, why did you kill the rooster? You know…"

"But, Mom! I didn't mean to do it—but he just got in the way of my rock! And then he fell over." Eli realized his mother was not happy. "He just walked in front of me!" He tried to explain, "and I wasn't trying to hit him—he—he was running around!"

Sister Marie took the rooster from his hand and started examining the bird. "There's no blood—are you sure you hit him?"

Eli nodded, relieved someone other than his mother was talking to him.

"Oh, Eli!" Sara said again as her hand went to her face. "You shot the rooster!"

Sister Marie was still laughing. "Come with me, Eli. I think your mother needs a few minutes to recover. We'll check this old rooster out and see how he died." She turned to Sara and winked.

Sara was flabbergasted that her child had killed a farm animal; she knew he ate chicken and beef when he and Grissom visited the neighbors, but for him to pick up the dead rooster and proudly show off his kill—she did not know if she wanted to cry or laugh. Well, she thought, Sister Marie had not helped by laughing so heartily.

Suddenly, she was not alone. Grissom and one of the neighbors had heard the laughter of Sister Marie and left the porch. Ava and Annie were chasing each other around her legs.

"What's going on?" Grissom asked when he noticed the distress on Sara's face.

"Eli shot a rooster!"

"What?"

"Father Joseph gave him a slingshot and the first thing he did was shoot the rooster!" Sara said, exasperation edging her answer. "He brought it to us like a trophy—and—and Sister Marie…"

"Laughed?" Grissom said with a chuckle; the look he got from Sara was enough to stifle his laugh. "Why don't you take the girls and I'll—we'll go," he nodded to the neighbor, "We'll go check the—victim. I can't believe Eli killed a rooster with a slingshot."

Sara's expression was enough to send the two men toward the barn.

Taking a hand of each little girl, she sighed and headed into the house to make an announcement about the death of a rooster.

…Much later, in a quiet house, five exhausted children sleeping soundly, Sara stepped out of the shower to find her husband holding a warm towel.

"I thought you might enjoy this after the day you've had," he said with a lopsided smile forming on his mouth.

Softly, Sara laughed as she let him wrap the dryer-heated towel around her. "Only on a Sunday, Gil. First, Ava and her panties in front of everyone—I thought it would be weeks before one of them topped that little stunt!"

Grissom nuzzled the back of her neck as she wrapped a towel around her hair. "It was only a rooster—and one they wanted to get rid of! As Sister Marie said, all her laying hens wanted to be brood instead of lay eggs!"

"I can't believe he killed it with such a small stone!"

Pulling out a small stool, he indicated she should sit while he towel-dried her hair. "Lucky shot—I believe Eli—he couldn't hit a can on the fence post, much less anything moving! That rock hit the carotid and mister rooster never knew what hit him." Leaning over her head, he kissed her forehead and breathed deeply.

Sara was nearly as exhausted as her children but there was an overriding perpetual state of joy. She felt she was caught up in a chaotic but grand adventure; she felted blessed—and loved.

She rose and turned, moving into Grissom's arms. Light blazed in the blue of his eyes.

"Sara," he whispered, pushing his face into her damp hair.

She closed her eyes and put her lips against his neck, feeling the warmth, tasting the heat. Her hands slipped underneath the soft white shirt he wore.

Without a word, he led her into their bedroom where he removed her towel before lowering her to the bed.

"I've wanted you all day," he said, eyes fixed on her face, "even when you were upset about that damn rooster." His eyes laughed before a grin spread across his face.

His smile, his fingers touching her face, tracing the rim of her jaw, her nose, her eyebrow, caused Sara to smile. The adventure continued.

_A/N: Yes, a rooster can be killed with a slingshot! Thank you for reading-and a special THANK YOU to those who send comments! Next chapter-soon! _


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thank you for reading; a special thank you to those who review! _

**A Few Days in April **

**Chapter 4**

Making love to her husband always brought a heightened sense of awareness to Sara. Every cell in her body responded to his touch. At one time she had abandoned hope of ever experiencing the power of passion Gil Grissom gave her, but now the energy of life swirled through her like a great storm.

Raising her fingers to thread into his hair, she pressed her lips to his; his mouth closed over hers, searing and hungry. The events of the day seemed to fade as passion pulsed between them.

Grissom stretched alongside her, half covering her, and closed one hand over the curve of her breast. As his thumb circled her nipple, Sara could feel the small callous that had developed near his knuckle graze against her tender skin.

Leaning over, he kissed her slowly and began an unhurried exploration of the woman he knew so well. His warm palm moved along her belly, her hip, her thigh, stroking her gently until every muscle and nerve pulsated with desire.

Sara's hand slid down his back, swept over his hip and found the heavy, rigid length of his erection.

"Lightly," Grissom murmured as her fingers wrapped around him.

Sara stifled a giggle.

"Don't laugh. I can feel you laughing."

"I'm not laughing—I'm smiling. I'm always—always delighted to find so much of you."

He laughed before he nuzzled his lips across her right nipple at the same time he stroked her again, deeply within her folds in such a way that Sara could no longer think coherently and her giggle turned into a moan of desire. His thumb caressed and circled; his finger gently probed.

Sara knew she was about to fly into the heart of a passionate storm as his fingers swirled and his lips returned to hers. Her hips lifted and in a flash, Grissom moved on top of her.

An indescribable rush of exhilaration and excitement flooded through Grissom, as it always did when he made love to his wife. Sara was more than his wife, he thought; she was part of him and the certainty, the desire that was his was willingly met with an intoxicating heat in her eyes. Love making was slow and deliberate, savored with a sense of rightness.

And, even now, years after he had admitted his love, he literally ached for her. When he could no longer bear his need, he entered her, slowly, deeply, setting free a dual storm of passion.

Exquisite pleasure unleashed thunderous waves of emotion as Sara was engulfed in her climax. She opened her eyes. Her husband was watching her with such intensity that she could see bright flashes in his eyes.

"Sara." He spoke her name in loving amazement.

The muscles of his back tensed, his arms tightened around her as he thrust deeply inside her. And then his climax was upon him, eliciting a second, gentler wave of pleasure within her. Together, they fell into the flashing, rippling currents of a passionate whirlpool.

For a while, they drifted between satisfied awareness and a peaceful twilight before sleep, keeping their bodies together, occasionally whispering words of love, always touching.

"Would you like ice cream?" Grissom asked.

Sara's soft giggle answered. "No, keeping you here is much better than ice cream." She snuggled even closer. "We need pajamas."

With five young children in the house, she had learned one always put on clothing after sex.

Even though Monday was a school holiday celebrating a local historical event, the Grissom children did not sleep late. Within minutes of hearing someone up, Sara was out of bed. She tucked covers over her sleeping husband, who groaned, mumbled, and pulled a pillow over his head.

By the time milk and cereal was poured into four bowls, Grissom arrived in the kitchen carrying Will.

"Dry?" Sara asked.

"Clean and dry. He needs to find his way to the kitchen instead of our bed!"

On seeing his mother, Will caused a string of reactions causing a familiar chaos—the baby reached for Sara, Grissom reached for his coffee cup, Bizzy scooted to the bench where her sisters were, and Eli pushed her bowl of cereal toward her. Coffee splashed as Grissom turned; milk spilled as the bowl moved. Ava and Annie shouted warnings that sounded like dual sirens. Will was happy to give his mother several damp kisses.

Sara wiped spills, poured more milk, added yogurt and fruit to the table before placing Will in his highchair and sitting beside him.

Grissom peeled a banana. "We need a bigger table." He cut the banana in half, giving pieces to Eli and Bizzy, and reached for another.

Sara smiled, saying, "I like our table. It's just right," as she reached across the table and spooned yogurt into Annie's empty bowl. She knew the day would come when they would need another table but this one kept everyone within her reach.

Eli and Bizzy, excited to have another day to play, were making plans involving toy trucks and moving dirt in the area by the outside play set.

A person unfamiliar with the world of small children would have seen confusion and commotion in the normal routine of getting dressed, of finding shoes, of locating a favorite toy, but it was the usual everyday pattern in the Grissom household. The parents worked efficiently; they had worked together so long that at times they functioned like a single unit, linked by the ability to mind-read. Sara did not have to ask for a shoe; it was held out, waiting for her to take it.

The day was sunny and warm in the way of an early spring day—a promise of more to come in a gentle breeze than blew through open windows. Bizzy had found old shorts to wear; Eli had tugged on a pair of jeans that stopped several inches above his ankles. Sara smiled at their rag-a-muffin appearance and kept quiet as the two children made extensive plans for whatever project they were planning. She knew she would have to remind them to eat.

Ava and Annie, so unlike their sister, were very particular about their clothing; Sara was learning to make her life easier by buying two of everything but in different colors for the twins. Their hair was another constant challenge—and even her husband had learned to use a comb and brush, barrettes and clips. Her fingers worked through tangles as she braided Ava's silky curls.

"I want a ponytail," Annie announced.

"Okey-doke," Sara answered, laughing as she turned to the child she worried about the most. Brushing long blonde curls, easily pulling most of the hair into her palm, Sara had a ponytail fashioned in a few seconds—definitely, she was better at ponytails than braids.

Grissom kissed each daughter as the girls danced around his legs and then he leaned over and kissed Sara. Four children giggled.

The morning progressed with the arrival of Lilly, the housekeeper, who brought her daughter with her. The young teenager was a favorite babysitter and, as she watched the children, Lilly, who came several days of the week, cleaned the house while Sara started on the pile of laundry that seemed to grow like mushrooms in her home.

At noon, Lilly and her daughter left, leaving the Grissom family to an hour or so of quiet; the younger children would take naps while Bizzy and Eli continued to play uninterrupted under the shade of a tree near the house. After getting Will down for a nap, Grissom had gone to his bee hives where he could easily spend several hours.

Sara was on the porch reading to a wide-awake Ava and a sleepy Annie when a dark-colored car pulled into the driveway. It was so quiet, Sara heard the crunch of gravel before the car came into view. A line of trees and a natural berm separated the house and yard from the paved road; Grissom had worked for a year to curve the driveway's approach to the house. And it worked to provide privacy as well as protection.

Hearing an automobile, Bizzy and Eli stopped their play and, once the vehicle eased to a stop, the two children ran to the porch, not in fear but in curiosity of the unknown.

"Who are they, Mom?" Eli asked as Sara stood.

The dog had gotten up and walked to Sara; gently, she placed a hand on Hank's head.

Immediately, Sara knew the vehicle was a government-issued car—the basic, unadorned appearance had not changed in years. She remained in the shade of the porch, watching two people inside the car as they talked to each other.

"Eli, run and get your dad. I'm sure they have come to see him."

The young boy hesitated a few seconds before he bounced from the porch and ran around the house.

A man got out of the car, straightening his dark coat and smoothing his pants before reaching into the car for an envelope. The driver's door opened and, as Sara watched, a woman, similarly dressed in a feminine version of a dark suit, stepped out of the vehicle. As the woman walked around the front of the car, Sara stared.

Something familiar, something registered as recognizable in the woman's appearance. Sara squinted; familiarity niggled through her brain. The woman was wearing dark glasses that covered a good portion of her face—fashionable, expensive—not the kind Sara wore. The woman hesitated, and then, she lifted her face to the sun.

The way she turned her face, the uplift of her chin; recognition was almost reached when Annie made a sleepy cry. Sara turned to lift her from the swing. Ava's arm curled around Sara's leg.

"Who are they, Mom?" Bizzy whispered the same question her brother had asked.

The man was a few feet from the porch when he saw Sara standing in the shade, partly concealed by the thick vines growing across the front.

"Hello!" He said as he reached inside his coat. A moment later a gold-colored badge, glinting brightly in the sun, appeared in his palm. "I'm looking for Dr. Gil Grissom."

The woman had stopped at the same time, removing her sunglasses, and reaching into a pocket for a similar badge.

Sara gasped. Her hand went to her mouth as recognition materialized.

The name came on a breath and then Sara repeated it. "Paula!"

_A/N: If you don't know Paula, read the first or second story in this series! And, again, thank you. We appreciate your support! _


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